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In the middle of the day yesterday, as I was working at my desk, I glanced down at a note written on my pink breast cancer awareness desk calendar. Sideways chicken scratches on the May 20th box indicated “2 Years, Found Lump.” I don’t even recall when I made that notation.

My heart thudded louder in my chest and my imagination immediately brought me back to that shower, to the adrenaline rush when I found a hard pea that normally didn’t reside in my right breast, to the naked trot across my house to my fiancĂ©, and finally to the unease and very controlled panic that we both experienced.

I sat at my desk and wondered how much would I give to return to two years and a day ago. Before mortality actually became a daily issue in my life. When I was in love and felt loved. When life was perfect and new again, and I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. I am so grateful that during those first few weeks after moving to Steamboat that I consciously stopped and told myself to appreciate the joy and peace I felt, because life was not always going to be this good. In reflection, that was an incredible gift to give myself, to impress upon my conscience that I can obtain a heightened sense of happiness just from existing in the “right” circumstances. It’s nice to remember that for every anti-depressant, anti-anxiety and other self-medication I’ve tried over the past year, that the best medication, at least for me, is to find a place that and a person who sustains me, who feeds my mind, body and soul and encourages me to be…myself. I am happy alone (with my menagerie), but of course I yearn for the completeness I once had. I talk with my friend Brooke often lately, and we both say that we are 51% happy most of the time, but then question, what is stopping us from being 90% happy most of the time? We are supposed to dig deep down and find that other 40% in ourselves, I understand that, but sometimes it does take relocation or another person to help you find it. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that.

I know tenets of reality say that we can’t freeze moments in time. I know that regardless of cancer, my life was bound to change and I would probably have landed in the same place I am now, just under different circumstances. But I still wish, when I am feeling 51% happy, that I could time travel to two years and a day ago, and live in that day for a very long time.